Page 71 of Trip Through Your Wires

“Ankylosaur tails,” I say with a soft laugh.

“Come again?” He turns to me.

“My brother Danny loved dinosaurs when he was a kid. That’s what he called them.”

“Ah,” he turns back to waving bulbs. “Now I see it. What are they really?”

“Blueberries,” I confirm. “We’ll pick them in May. Nana’s pies and jams got the back of the property, and Papa’s peaches got the front.”

He looks down at the plate and I hold out a hand. “Dig in before it gets cold.”

He takes a seat and reaches for the knife and fork on either side of the plate. “This looks amazing. Did you make this?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

He looks up and grins then digs in. “Oh, Sparky, this is good.”

My cheeks warm with the compliment. “Thank you. It’s a family recipe. One Nana gave only to me, I will have you know.”

He looks up, chewing. “Can I have it?”

I lean my elbow on the table and rest my chin on my hand. “We’ll see.”

As he eats, we make small talk—the weather, his dinner, the flight and drive—and once he’s finished, I reach for the plate to clear it away and he holds up a hand. “Sit, I’ll get this.”

He brings the plate and silverware into the house and I’m about ready to tell him to leave them in the sink when I hear the sink running and Jake humming. He’s washing the dishes. Good lord if Nana finds out she really will want to keep him.

Once he’s done he comes back outside and sits down. We both stare out, listening to the sounds of the night, then he turns to me. “So, do you want to tell me why you haven’t talked to your best friend?”

I don’t know how to respond because the answer isn’t simple. But I know I need to say something. He didn’t come all the way down here not to get an answer.

“I didn’t mean to worry her.” I look down, the memory of Ellery’s sweet southern drawl pinched with concern in her last message, creating a lump in my throat. “I’ve just been going through some stuff.”

“Okay.” Jake sits back. “So it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between us?”

“Why would it?” My eyes whip back up.

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “You tell me.”

Not knowing what to say, I fall quiet. “What do you want from me?” I ask finally.

“Now see,” the corner of his lip hitches, “that’s a loaded question.”

“No, it’s not.” I shake my head. “It’s an honest one. Why did you come down here, really?”

He runs a hand through his hair then drops his hand to the arm of the chair. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. Since last summer you have been a constant in my life and I just—”

“You mean a constant in your night,” I correct.

“Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” I ask not so innocently.

“Don’t act like we weren’t more than that.”

“But we weren’t, so don’t make this into something it’s not.”

“What something is that?” He leans in, the warmth emanating from his body stirring my own. “What’s going on with you, or what’s going on with us?”

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